Waldgeist
by XxScarletxRosexX
Summary: When young, inexperienced warrior, Soul Evans, regains consciousness after a near-death experience, he is greeted by an interesting sight of a mysterious, young female child with alluring jade eyes aiding him. Full summary on the prologue! Read the comic by Tri-chan/Eisschirmchen on waldgeistcomic[dot]tumblr[dot]com! R&R please!
1. Prologue: Emerald Desires

**Link for DA:** xxscarletxrosexx*dot*deviantart*dot*com/art/Waldge ist-Prologue-Emerald-Desires-376333271

**Link for Comic version by Tri-chan (Eisschirmchen):** TBA

**(c) Soul Eater belongs to Atsushi Ōkubo  
(c) Waldgeist AU belongs to Tri-chan (eisschirmchen)  
(c) Written by XxScarletxRosexX**

**Summary:**

When young, inexperienced warrior, Soul Evans, regains consciousness after a near-death experience, he is greeted by an interesting sight of a mysterious, young female child with alluring jade eyes aiding him. With nothing but an emerald amulet to signify her existence, Soul had taken various missions outside of his homeland to seek for his childhood savior, while creating a powerful reputation as a side note. On his 20th birthday, fate turns to his favor, and it may be more than what he's bargained for.

* * *

…_up. Wake up. Please awaken._

"Why?" I responded. Why must I awaken? The day has reached its conclusion... it is only right to rest my body, right? But why does it feel so wrong?

With deep contemplation, I recounted the evening's activities: attending class with my fellow batch mates, training independently, hunting, and returning home to visit the realm of desires. The day had accomplished its task, and I had done my part. This was our daily routine, the definition of normalcy.

_Awaken._

The same unfamiliar feminine voice echoed in my conscience like a droplet rupturing a serene lake. It was young and uncharacteristically soft, softer than any murmur a female child of my age group could ever produce. It was also heavily accented when she commanded me to arouse in my native tongue. Who was this young woman? Was she from another tribe? The more I cogitated, the more interested I became.

_Awaken._

My eyes were open, I know they were, but the only thing that greeted me was a never-ending void of darkness. _Am I still dreaming_? I wondered. Why couldn't I wake up? I squeezed my eyes once more and opened them in hopes to visualize the young woman, but darkness only stared back. Frustrated, I repeated the same action time and time again, the result never changing.

"I want to see the possessor of this voice! I want to know who she is!" I demanded like a spoiled child. I was impatient; I wanted a glimpse of this mysterious girl before she disappeared, whoever or wherever she was.

Alas, my eyes spotted a speck of white light from the distance as the darkness's reply. Without hesitation, I dashed towards the object the fastest I have ever done on my thirteenth spring—one that would put the young Wes of that spring to shame. As the speck increased the closer I approached, the more fervent I became, and the more intense the invisible pain gnawed in my chest. It was then I recalled what truly took place in reality.

Like a stone wall, the memory knocked me with a strong and vivid film, as if I was experiencing the agonizing event a second time around. I was frustrated before a storm loomed overhead. Distracted, I slipped off a dangerous cliff and tumbled twenty feet into my death, but I survived—the intense pain radiating from my chest had proven that.

With a groan, I finally opened my eyes. A large, blurry edition of the speck streamed directly over me like a curious child. The blinding light left me paralyzed and disoriented, but what bothered me the most was the vision of it all. Startled that the incident had left me blind, I clenched my eyes once more to regain my vision. My hands felt dead to me, but I knew both had settled over my lids due to their weight. A couple rubs later, my vision returned and relief washed over me. Next, I struggled to a sitting position when a loud hiss emanated from my lips. The result left me back into my former position with a small slap from the eroded ground. Ignoring the growing throb from the anterior, I pushed myself once more with gritted teeth. Suddenly, a hand was set on top of mine. "Lay down," she persuaded in her heavy accent. It was then I recalled belatedly of the purpose of my awakening.

Before I could peek, she added in the same comforting tone, "This will hurt."

With a groan, I felt the substance seer across my chest, embroidering it with an uncomfortable trail of flames. The pain was so intense that I almost fell back into unconsciousness. It took what was left of my strength to bring one of my numb hands over my chest and brought it to my face. It didn't surprise me that a vibrant shade of red clung to my sun kissed palm. He dropped his hand when his vision cracked into a blur and back. Without a second to lose, I croaked, "Who…?"

The young girl to my right flinched from the interrogation—_probably surprised that I maintained my consciousness_—and met my eyes with large pairs of jade. She was pale underneath the harsh rays; surprisingly the sun did not affect her skin like any other alabaster owners. Her tresses of hair were gathered into two pig tails, one of which had a pair of blue feathers bunched to the band near me. A hazy wave washed over my vision and my eyes dropped to the glistening emerald jewel that hung over her chest. I glanced at her with panicked eyes and a train of worry making its way from my throat.

With compassion, her small slender fingers combed through the stark white, messy, bird nest of a hair. For some inexplicable reason, I found comfort with her unfamiliar touch.

"You're going to be okay," she whispered.

_How?_ I wanted to ask, but my voice was lost within the hazy apparition. The last thing I remember was an unfamiliar tattoo in the shade of aquamarine. A ring of circular outlines with a dotted center clasped together by the vertical ends, beneath it was a pair of bars of varying width on the anterior end.

Then, I resurfaced back into the realm of desires.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Son of a biscuit, I'm super screwed for my English project submission, but whatever... I couldn't concentrate two days ago and typed this up.  
After conversing with the lovely Tri-chan on skype, I was able to write down what she envisioned. I kid you not, I already wrote down every idea up to chapter 5... but you have to wait into summer just to read it ;)**

With the Tri-chan's permission and guidance, I decided to make her story a reality :'3  
Sometimes I just wanna kill myself because my writing is unworthy for her story but I still wanna do it. She has been an amazing communicator and friend. Seriously, she's totally a great friend to talk to whether it be 2pm in the afternoon here or 4am in the morning! :)

Submissions will be lengthy with this series because I want her approval before posting this. It's a collaboration after all.

Don't worry, I'm not abandoning _Patiently Waiting For You_, I'm working on both of them over summer ^^


	2. Chapter 1: Path Upstream

**Link for DA:** xxscarletxrosexx*dot*deviantart*dot*com/art/Waldge ist-Chapter-1-Path-Upstream-378963115

**Link for Comic version by Tri-chan (Eisschirmchen):** TBA

**(c) Soul Eater belongs to Atsushi Ōkubo  
(c) Waldgeist AU belongs to Tri-chan (Eisschirmchen)  
(c) Written by XxScarletxRosexX**

* * *

His head throbbed the moment he resurfaced back into what seems like reality. The room was bright, but not as blinding or intense as the first time he was exposed to the heat's rays. _Perhaps it was another vivid dream_, he didn't know, all he could recall was a hazy footage of a young female's face in a secluded forest, far off the outskirts of his homeland, except the air wasn't as refreshing as he recalled earlier that event. He felt congested; the air was stifling with man-made concoctions that he would expect to see in the medical board… _wait a minute_.

He sat up quickly, groaning and hissing as pain exploded throughout his entire body like a stream of hot water. The blinding pain resulted with a hard fall on his back. "Ah, ugh, sweet motherland…"

"Oh? So you have awaken, I see," a soft baritone acknowledged.

"Ugh… huh?"

"We are at the ward. You don't need to worry anymore." Just as he had stated, Soul's eyes traveled across the dim setting He spotted several birch barks scattered about the room with inscriptions of medical attention, instructions, and some of what seems to be humorous drawings to input a child-friendly atmosphere for the younglings. His fear of this room was almost nostalgic. Returning his attention back to the chief, Soul noted idly that the lack of his war bonnet gave his head the affect of becoming smaller. It was a bit unnerving, but comforting to know that the intimidating, fearsome chief was once a young man before gaining such extraordinaire superiority. "Your brother found you lying atop of a boulder. He assumed you were resting after another rigorous training when he realized blood painted across your body. This," the chief paused to outline the cut from his left shoulder to his right hip. Despite the chief's feather contact, Soul swallowed a hiss, "is a fatal wound. Death should have reaped you, and yet you're still living and breathing."

_Yes, I should have died that moment._ He recalled the crisp crimson that clung on to his hand with strong vivid footage. The smell of a rusting iron emanated from his chest, strangling his lungs of the forest's refreshing oxygen when he sat up to observe the wound. _Yes, the event took place, but to what extent? And where was the young woman who aided me?_

"Wha, Whe… Where…?"

"Hmm?"

"Where is… she?"

"_She?_ Who is _she_? Is _she_ the one who aided you?"

"Yes," the boy swallowed. "I must thank her for saving me."

"Saving you?" Soul inwardly smacked himself. There was absolutely no way he would ever tell a single soul of his motives, let alone the cause of this entire entanglement. "From what, child?"

"My thoughts were wondering," Soul answered half-truthfully, "a storm was looming over me and I fell off a cliff. After that…" Soul forced himself to sit up, this time with the chief's assistance. "a young woman about my brother's age with hair as light as a bundled stalk of wheat and eyes of a glowing pair of jaded jewels aided me with a medicine—I don't know what it's called—but she rubbed some over the wound. That's all I recall…"

"Hmm…" the chief responded with an ominous reaction. Even his chipping, optimistic skull didn't improve the situation any better. "Whoever she is did a wonderful job with the sewing," he complimented upon observation. Soul sighed, aggravated. "But that is not what you want to hear from me, now was it?" Soul nodded meekly, embarrassed that he could be so transparent at times when he was curious.

"The child you speak of is not one of us. I don't ever recall any members with the descriptions you provided. Perhaps she's from another tribe?"

Soul shook his head, perplexed, but said nothing more. "Yes… perhaps."

"Well, Soul, on the bright side your thirteenth spring is approaching rather quickly. It is not long before you are able to leave the village as much as you please," he mentions thoughtfully, a hinted smile beneath the bony mask, "I assume that you are well trained before your accolade ceremony."

Soul hung his head, discreetly hiding his excitement and high spirits with his lengthy, fair bangs. "Yes, sir," he replied with controlled confidence.

"Now, I know that the pain in your chest is bothering you so please lie down and rest for a good week, child. You'll be up and running in no time."

"Yes, sir," Soul groaned, obediently lying down on his back with the chief's assistance once more.

"Rest well."

Despite the request, the realm of desires did not beckon Soul's return like it usually did. Instead, he stared at the streams of light that poured in through the small crevices of the plafond with idling interest as vivid memories attached themselves to his thoughts. The child could never forget the young maiden no matter how much he tried. Her physical appearance bore themselves into his memory like a forger shaping an obsidian arrowhead. There was something about her that he had to remember, something crucial, but he didn't know just what.

* * *

_How long had he been laying there with a worn bow at hand, staring at several of his artificial wooden targets? He recalled hours of carving constructions throughout lessons with Elder Nygus and applying this skill to defense class with Warchief Sid. The lessons were boring, but they sure did come in handy._

_With these two abilities, Soul trained himself rigorously on a daily basis with only one goal implemented into his mind and that was to be ranked the most powerful warrior of the Wasserstamm Tribe. He was tired of being the late blooming flower or the second apple that fell off the tree. He was sick of always being compared to the prodigy, his older brother, Wes Evans, or rather his well-deserved title: Wes of the Dancing Breeze. He earned that nickname through his swift, graceful movements and silent, merciful strikes throughout hunting assignments. Just like a breeze, Wes's attacks cannot be sensed until they are hit._

_His brother was the center of attention, the main conversation amongst adults, children, single women, and most especially, their parents. His outstanding recognition had transform Soul into an abandoned spirit whose goal is to become just as equally natural as his phenomenon brother. He had no say in this, the result was inevitable. If he could not surpass his brother, then his life would encircle an endless chain of judgment and disappointment._

_Wiping a bead of sweat off the top of his brow, Soul smiled appreciatively when he noticed an arrowhead pinned to the center of the wooden target. Of course, still a learning amateur, there were several more clumped about the first ripple, clinging to the bark with little force to secure the weight in place. But all that mattered to the young albino was his progressing accuracy and precision. He was getting it, and he would have it in no time. His excitement for improvement was enough to bring the young man back on to his feet and return to illustrate his success to his peers and parents. Rejuvenated through his accomplishments, Soul collected his equipments and hummed a small tune on his way to the village._

_The moment he returned, Soul was greeted by a worried, snow haired female. She wore a leather tube dress that stopped right above her bare ankles. Vibrant streams of beads adorned the crown and base of the dress, imitating the sound of a coursing river with every movement she made._

_"Mother," Soul greeted, "Mother, I have something important I would like to show you."_

_"Honey, come quick, you have returned at a most convenient timing," she chirped jubilantly, grasping his wrist without a glance at the materials gripped in his palms._

_"What's wrong, mother?" Soul asked, bewildered._

_"Hush now, child, we do not want to break his concentration."_

_Soul's lips parted to inquire once more but quickly closed it when he noticed the swarm of folks heading the same direction as they were. He knew it was wiser to keep his mouth shut and follow his mother obediently._

_"Mother what's-"_

_"Shh!" she silenced, "Watch closely, Soul. I want you to observe everything he does and learn from him." It seemed like an eternity had pass when Soul took notice of the warrior that rehearsed before them was none other than the** brightest star** of the village, Wes of the Dancing Breeze._

_At the sight, Soul clenched his scraped hands into a balled fist. He did not wish to wreak havoc by an impulsive storm from within the crowd. Instead he waited for the audience to be entranced, waited for his mother to release her grip on his sore wrists with an applaud of pride for her eldest son's flawless and accurate target with the skill Soul had practice merely moments ago. When he found his opening, the young man slipped through crowd like a snake swimming upstream. Once freed from the congested congregation, Soul returned to the only place that bestowed him freedom: The Forest of Fey._

_Blinded with rage, Soul trudged through the forest, hurling his equipment about the foliage, locking his snowy hair in death grips, and occasionally tossing a punch or two against trees that were in his path. Everything was on to him; even the sounds of the chirping crickets were mocking him for his lack of technique, unlike his older brother. Wes didn't even break a sweat! He was absolutely perfect in every way: personality, intelligence, technique—you name it, and he'll always be the first to be mentioned._

_"So what?" Soul hollered towards the line of vegetation, "So what if he's perfect and I'm not? Does that give me any right to be less of a human being?" He huffed indignantly, as his eyes marked each and every object before him as a target for vent. He was prepared to retrieve his weapons when a dark cloud loomed over him, booming disapproval of Soul's action._

_The albino child stumbled in his footing for a second, but recovered by standing erect and confident against a vociferous opponent. "I'm not afraid of you!" the child exclaimed. His opponent responded with another thunderous explosion. "That's right! I can take you on! I'm not afraid by your stupid lightning! Why don't you come here and face me, huh?" Without peeling his eyes away from the dark clumps, Soul recovered his bow with one hand while the other took hold of the quiver and tossed the strap over his bony shoulder. He chased after the cloud, shouting enticing challenges, phrases that made him feel like the better man, but then he lost his footing and he tumbled down an abyss._

_Sweat drenched his face as his stomach churned in an unnatural cycle within the darkness. Although he was sightless, he recognized the pain—the same throb that coursed his veins like a blazing river. Through the dark, he groped for his chest, meeting a slick, sticky substance as expected. But aside from this agonizing torture, he sensed another presence: one with skin as smooth as a frog and gentle and warm as a deer's hide. He was familiar with this gesture, he knew who it was. He fought with his eyes, fought for them to part so he could see her face once more, but it was firmly shut, as though someone had purposely sewn them together. He became panic, gesticulations increased in motion as searched for the hand frantically._

_**You're going to be alright.** She reassured him whilst caressing his cheek before pulling back and returning to work on his chest. Suddenly, strength returned to his eyes and he was able to part them in time to meet the soft smile on her face once more. It took him a moment to realize that she was now holding his right hand tenderly and repeating those comforting words like a mantra. He smiled at the contact, relaxed and slipped back into the darkness for he knew he was safe with her presence alone. When he re-opened them, he was back in the ward._

* * *

His eyes traveled to his fisted right hand, the one that gripped on to the young woman's. He was amazed that her warmth lingered in that palm, and oddly, along with an unknown object. With caution, his fingers uncurled and there in the center… sat three small, verdant stones wove together by a black twine. He recognized the gems as her necklace, they were one of the few details he remembered her. With a groan and a smack to his forehead, Soul recalled the most crucial details he has yet to share with Chief Death: her aquamarine tattoos. Despite that, he smiled to himself, admiring how the small object could project a huge glare from the light's exposure. "That settles it," he told himself, "I'm going to find her."

"SOUL!" On cue, a high pitch squeal emanated from the outside ward, resulting Soul to drop the necklace—almost.

"Huh?"

"SSSOOOOOUUUULLLL!"

"Oh shit…" Too late to react, an overreacting, eccentric blue haired child stormed through the ward. Following suit with quick, long strides was a man with silver locks and a pair of fatigue eyes beneath his glaring bifocal.

Before the man could reach the youngling, he pounced on top of Soul, planting his feet on both ends of his thighs in a squat whilst shaking his whole frame violently with his hands latched on his throat.

"SOUL! SOUL! ARE YOU OKAY? YOU'RE GOING TO BE ALRIGHT! BLACK*STAR IS HERE NOW!" he exclaimed while thrashing him around like ragdoll. Subsequently, the spiky haired child tossed him on his back and continued his ministration by using both his thumb and forefinger to pry his eyes open before transitioning back to thrashing his body, "OPEN YOUR EYES! ONE LOOK AT MY BIG, HANDSOME FACE AND YOU'LL BE CURED!"

"Black*Star…" Soul hissed out.

"HEY! YOU'RE ALIVE! SEE! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?! NO GOD CAN EVER TREAT A PATIENT THAT FAST!" the small, rambunctious boy grinned accomplishedly. Self absorbed with his egotistic accomplishment, Black*Star was unable to foreshadow Soul's attack, striking him across the face and knocking him off the side of the wooden cot. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR? IS THAT HOW YOU TREAT YOUR SAVIOR FOR RESCUING YOUR SMALL, PATHETIC LIFE?"

"I'M NOT DEAD, BLACK*STAR," Soul retorted equally vociferous due to the intense pain deriving from his chest. After a moment of wincing and catching his breath he replied in a controlled tone, "Thanks anyways."

"Hey," a wide grin returned to Black*Star's lips once more, "that's what friends are for."

"You do realize," the duo turned their attention the silver haired adult, belatedly recalling his presence over the course of event, "your actions could have endangered Soul by reopening the wound on his chest rather than retrieve his conscience."

Almost immediately, Soul's face paled while Black*Star responded with his head thrown back, bursting into a loud, obnoxious guffaw until the adult slapped him across the posterior end of his head, earning him a loud, "HEY! ARE YOU REQUESTING A FIGHT FROM ME, OLD MAN?!" from the mercurial child.

With a sigh, he brushed off the challenge along with several trains of the child's entice and continued the conversation with Soul in such a way that Black*Star had never spoke. "I came in to give you a quick check up while you rested, but as I see now, you're wide awake. So, how are you feeling?"

"Sore, I suppose, Doctor Stein," Soul replied with a wince, "Do you have anything that could make the pain stop? Like a liquid substance?"

"You mean the one that the girl gave you?"

Soul parted his lips to question his acknowledgement for that information but quickly closed it when he remembered that their omnipotent chief liked to share stories—private or not—although he knew that he meant well.

"Yes, I have that already set up for you. Her decision to choose aloe vera was a wise one. You can see here, that your wound is recovering rather quickly than the usual time it takes without it." Carrying on his duty, Elder Stein went ahead and slathered the medicine over Soul's wound.

"So that explains that minty feel," Soul remarked from the familiar sensation .

"Correct. That medicine often gives off that refreshing sensation. Resting will handle the remaining recovery. Apply more if it begins to ache later," returning the bowl back to his bedside, Elder Stein then refocused his attention the blabbering youngling. "Come along now, Black*Star. You have lessons to return to."

"Yeah? Huh?! Finally listening to me now, old man? When do you want to fight? I can take you any day, any time! You name it and I'll kick your ass without breaking a sweat! That's the all mighty Black*Star for you!" the spiky haired boy chortled.

"Out," the doctor repeated in a forceful, blunt tone. Black*Star returned it with silence and a challenging glare.

"Just go, Black*Star," Soul encouraged, breaking the tension between Elder and youngling.

"What? Why?" Black*Star questioned with genuine concern, "Are you choosing him over me, Soul? Is he more special than what we have? What we went through?"

"Just go, Black*Star," Soul responded with a straight face.

"Alright, fine, I will. And you better not come crying back to me!" Black*Star trailed on, his voice cracking toward the end of his sentence. He turned around, ready to fly out of the room ahead of Elder Stein when Soul beckoned him once more.

"I just don't want you to see me like this, so please, leave, Black*Star…"

Black*Star abruptly turned towards his comrade, tears streaming down his face as he bit back a wail, "I can never leave you alone like this, Soul!" grasping his hand he continued, "You're special to me."

"And to me as well," Soul replied genuinely, "I will return to you soon."

"And I'll be waiting," Black*Star swallowed. Although the interaction was interesting, Elder Stein tugged the boy by his ear and forcefully dragged him out. Despite the pain stemming from his ear, Black*Star cries increased the further they parted, "I'll be waiting for you, you got that?! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! YOU GOT IT, SOUL? WE'RE MEANT TO BE!"

"AND YOU FOR ME, BLACK*STAR!" Soul hollered back. "AND I EXPECT THAT YOU VISIT ME EVERYDAY AFTER CLASS!"

"GOT IT…"

With a wide smile and a chuckle escaping his lips, Soul settled himself back on to the cot to gaze at the sun set through the crevices of the plafond once more before returning to the realm of desires.

* * *

A full week raced by at break neck speed and Soul was finally released to return home to concerned family despite their reoccurring visits when he was back at the ward. Soul's mother smothered him with kisses and apologies, repetitively taking full responsibility for his near-death experience by pushing him over his limit. Back then and up to now, Soul consoled his mother that the responsibility of his actions was of his own stupidity. Father had also begun to lighten up towards him despite his hard-shell personality. Last, but certainly not the least, Wes of the Dancing Breeze tended to him as much as needed. Again, he was a perfect role model, a perfect sibling, a perfect leader for the village one day, but instead he's presenting himself to be manipulated and unimportant in the presence of him, an imperfect son of the Evans family. Soul finally had the opportunity to use his brother, to put him to shame in order to make him the better of the duo, but he did nothing of the sort. The attention from the folks, their very own parents, and the acknowledgement of his brother's willingness were enough to suffice for the time being. He was okay with just that small moment.

Luckily for Soul, he was completely healed from the injury, apart from the permanent scar from his left shoulder to his right hip, in time for the upcoming accolade ceremony. Finally, his thirteenth spring had arrive and he was now bestowed the opportunity to become a true warrior of the Wasserstamm Tribe.

He waited eagerly, sitting above his crossed ankles like his graduating peers and their parents. Chief Death, now crowned in his large war bonnet of varying gray and white feathers with ends that stopped shy above the ground, clothed with a black bear's hide down to his ankles, a long sash of various symbols of accomplishments as a warrior, a colorful beaded necklace of varying stones, and a dark pair of moccasins. He crossed the audience to the slow, rhythmic beat of the varying drums and maracas. The audience flowed in with chants as he made his way towards a large pit that imprisoned the people of the flames. Once he reached the front, everyone fell silent. Another painstaking moment, he finally faced the younglings with such strong, erect front that his superiority raced through the entire hut like a massive boulder. Legend has captured that his powers could crumble the mountains with a single breath, sending massive amounts of warriors to the next realm, earning him the nickname he still uses today. Even up to now, no one had dared challenged Chief Death for power. Ironically, his personality was the exact opposite of his menacing story.

"Alright, settle down, settle down," his upbeat baritone voice rang about the silenced hut, "let's begin this now, shall we?" The audience responded with a nod. "Welcome, I say," he continued, "Firstly, let us congratulate another evolving younglings for their well deserved thirteenth spring." After the first clap from the chief, everyone followed suit before silence overwhelmed once more. "Now your thirteenth spring is your most important year for the path you take now will be the path you shall follow until you are an Elder such as your parents and perhaps your older siblings. If you have not decided, you have three days to partake every selective offer before you can settle with it permanently, so please choose wisely. Now, if you don't mind I will share your paths." Almost immediately, every youngling straightened themselves and leaned forward. "The first I'd like to mention are the hunters and gatherers. Their main objective is provisions. They are the most vital people of the tribe for they collect harvest and meat. The task appears simple, but it's a rather difficult and time consuming path. "Then there are the forgers and the weavers. They are responsible with the natural resources that nature has bestowed each and every one of us. Forgers will create tools and weapons while the weavers are highly concentrated with vegetation and animal hides to clothe us in accordance to the seasons. Most males are forgers while women are weavers, but if ever either sexes choose the opposite position, there will be no objection, you are free to choose whatever you wish." This earned several conversations amongst several younglings of both genders. "Finally…" the entire youngling population craned forward, "there is the warrior class. Usually, warriors are limited to the male, but as of over populations by the women, some have requested to follow this path. Similar to hunters, warriors partake in hunting assignments to recollect food for the village once in a while, but their main duty is to fight alongside with me in times of battle against opposing clans. Although it has been an awful while since one has ever occurred, it is best to have them prepared rather than fall into our demise. It is here where one can later gain their title as a chief such as Warchief Sid or myself. May it be you someday, to earn such a high title and lead the tribe with the gods as your guidance." Several younglings' eyes shimmered with the thought of owning such power in the nearest future, young Soul Evans was no exception. "And with that, I shall announce several folks who have gained a high reputation of that path. Feel free to converse with them after the ceremony. Let's see now, starting with our very own hunter, excuse me, huntress—the first of her kind—is none other than Yumi of the Azusa clan. Don't be shy; a round of applause for this amazing young woman. Next is…"

The words faded away as Soul and several of the audience waited for the announcement of the warrior. He applauded when he was required, but quickly dismissed the action after Chief Death shared a short story about individual. His eagerness was growing unbearable, as names of familiar and well known members took their place beside the chief, perfectly aligned with great superiority that almost matched with the chief himself.

"And last but not the least, our top warrior." At this point several younglings as well as the parents held their breaths for the announcements. Some were already confident for who would earn the title while others hoped for the same person. Eagerly, they strained their ears to overhear the most important announcement of them all. "First of all, I'd like to honor our very own Warchief Sid for his contributions with the lessons for these younglings. As you all know, since a warrior's true activity involves usually involves battles, it was Sid's idea to contribute warrior's activities with the community rather than having the path removed." Again the audience applaud as Warchief Sid marched his way towards the rest of the outstanding folks of their village. "Now it is my greatest pleasure and honor to inform you of a youngling who has graduated within two springs after following his desired path. This former youngling has portrayed an exceptional and amazing techniques within those two following springs, making himself the youngest warrior to ever achieve a high title. And now I would like to award this high title to young… Wes Evans."

Thunderous claps and hoots exploded from the entire hut as young Wes stood up with a winning smile glued to his face. He was surprised, despite the numerous accounts when folks openly came up and informed him of the title he would receive from Chief Death himself. Wes was painfully modest in everything he did—that is why he was highly respected by everyone. Despite his inner rivalry with his brother, Soul was the first to stand amongst the younglings followed by Black*Star and several others. It was here, Wes met Soul's eyes the moment he turned them towards the audience. It was brief, and yet it enough to fit all his emotion with this small exchange—his great, emotional gratitude for his brother's support. As long as Soul could ever recall, this was the first time he had willingly and openly supported his brother. He knew his brother deserved it, but he also knew one day he would whisk it away from him. He will most certainly hold on to his vow. Someday it will be him who would stand beside Chief Death and he would be the one to support him. Soul knew he would do the same, and he knew he would never harbor such hatred as he did, after all they are brothers.

After the ceremony and everyone was dismissed, Soul was the very first to make his way to his brother and shook his hand with a strong grip. Soul would never forget the genuine glow in his brother's eyes the moment they broke contact. "Soul, have I ever told you how you make me feel like the luckiest brother in the world?"

Soul returned with a confused look, "Rather should you say it the other way around?"

Wes chuckled whilst shaking his head, "I don't care about statuses, little brother. The biggest goal in my life is becoming a dependable big brother for you. I've waited for ages for you to do something that would tell me that you are proud of me."

"Seriously, Wes? Don't get so emotional. What will the folks think?" Soul teased lightheartedly.

"Well," Wes sighed with a twinkling glow replacing his moist eyes, "does this mean that you are-"

"Of course," Soul finished, "gotta keep up with my brother, after all."

"That's right," Wes ruffled the mirror of his own patch of hair, "you have to carry on the path, but..." Soul arched a brow with the trail, "you don't have to if you don't want, Soul. Keep that in thought. No matter the pressure or expectation, do what makes you happy. Just know that I will always support you anytime."

"Good," Soul grinned daringly, "then I hope you can support me when I become the better warrior."

"We'll see, Soul," Wes accepted, "I hope someday we will see that dream of yours come true. But you have to work hard until you earn my support."

"Well isn't someone going back on their word?"

"You have your eyes set on a perpetual path of adversity, young brother. I would like to see you at your best. Until then," he offered his hand once more, "may the gods be with you."

"As to you, Wes of the Dancing Breeze." After the short exchange, both siblings parted ways.

Over the course of time, Soul had successfully won that bet.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Just for the fun of it, I made the title pretty symbolic in two ways that basically summarizes the entire chapter:**

1) His death. A stream has one direction, usually it heads down because of Earth's gravity and pulling it towards the ocean. But the title is "upstream" so there is a contradiction to it. Did you know how salmons are (possibly) the only fish that could fight the current of a stream by leaping out of a water and heading the opposite direction? (I recalled this b/c of a commercial about education and one happened to be a salmon leaping out of the water and going upstream). So like a salmon going upstream, Soul survived death. The near-death experience is his one way trip to the next realm, but he beat it with Maka's help. That make sense right? The story for the most part shares this story.

2) As I mentioned earlier, a stream has only one direction. So like his family's wish (or rather it was inevitable that he would choose this path) he would take the path of a warrior.

And that's that :'3

Also, I did my very best to keep their Soul Eater personality intact as well keep the story pretty modern through conversation. Hopefully the tone I applied to who spoke with who was accurate. I tried my best not to waltz into slang territory since I wanna keep it modernized and up to date. A lot of research was taken place to write this and hopefully it was worth it!

**Tri-chan and I hope that you guys enjoy it :)**


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